


Through Victory, My Chains Are Broken

by gamerfic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Korriban, Misses Clause Challenge, Sparring, Undercover, references to slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:51:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerfic/pseuds/gamerfic
Summary: Juhani hates being undercover at the Sith Academy on Korriban. Revan finds a way to make it more tolerable.





	Through Victory, My Chains Are Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [utsusemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/utsusemi/gifts).



"They are slaves. Don't worry about them."

The words burn deafeningly in Juhani's ears as she storms up the ramp to the Sith Academy on Korriban. She stalks through its dark stone corridors at Revan's heels, seething, barely registering her conversations with Uthar and Yuthura and the rest of the academy's denizens. Her thoughts have space only for the lie, and how readily it came to Revan's lips.

Eventually they'll need to enter the Valley of the Dark Lords to gain the prestige that will earn them their final Star Map. But night is already falling, and Revan seems content to remain inside the academy until morning. Carth is distant and distracted, preoccupied with the lost son he's just rediscovered, so it's easy to pull Revan aside into their shared sleeping quarters to confront her. "How _dare_ you," Juhani hisses as the door slides shut.

Revan (she gave another name to the Sith, an alias even she herself used to believe, but to Juhani she will only ever be Revan anymore) remains calm. Her beautiful face is a frustrating mask of Jedi serenity. At least she has the decency not to pretend she doesn't know what Juhani is talking about. "It was the only story I knew Yuthura would accept. Would you rather I had left you and Carth behind in the cantina?"

"No." She wishes she could make Revan understand the horror reverberating through her at the sound of the word _slave_ , the dreadful memories it summoned, the fear and helplessness she can't shake. "But I cannot pretend to be…"

"I don't want to pose as Sith, either. Especially after everything I've learned." Revan's eyes lose focus for a moment as she remembers her own past, its truth so recently restored to her. "I want to be different. _Better._ I know you want it, too. But for now, we have to pretend we aren't if we're going to stop Malak."

"That does not mean I have to like it."

"I don't expect you to." Revan crosses to the door. "I'm going to have a look around. Want to come along?"

Juhani would always rather do something, _anything_ than sit idle and alone with her emotions, and Revan knows it. Frustration surges in her again at the realization of how she's being handled, but she follows Revan out into the hall. They wander through the academy for a while, trying doors and rummaging through crates and foot lockers. When they encounter other students, Revan is always ready with a glib excuse or some distracting dialogue, every word calibrated toward the goal of gaining what they need to get to the bottom of this place. She is confident, charismatic, and calculating all at once. It's easy for Juhani to play the role of the silent servant in her master's wake, even as an anger no amount of meditation can extinguish smolders within her.

Past the great hall, Juhani and Revan hear the sounds of hand-to-hand combat echoing into the corridor. They follow the noise to a small gymnasium where two Sith apprentices are sparring. One of the Sith, a young man with white-blonde hair and a permanent sneer, sweeps his opponent's legs out from under her with a well-timed kick, then pins her until she yields. "Look, Tristis," the losing Sith says as she gets to her feet. "It's the new student and her slave."

"Have you come looking for a fight, then?" asks Tristis, toweling sweat from his neck.

"Not especially," says Revan. She jerks her head toward Juhani. "But _she_ might have." Startled, Juhani squares her shoulders and tries to look as though she understands what's happening. _Does Revan think this will make me feel better? If so...she might be right._

Both Sith laugh in disbelief. "You brought a Cathar slave to fight for you?" says the female apprentice disdainfully.

"No," says Revan. "She fights for herself. When I want to fight you, you'll know. For now, I'm going to sit this one out. I beat up enough of your classmates on the way into the Academy to get what you're about."

Tristis grins savagely. "You talk too much, newcomer. Perhaps you won't be so talkative after I've defeated your slave."

"Unless she's too afraid to spar," says the other Sith.

"I am not afraid," says Juhani as her heart begins to pound.

Tristis steps back and assumes a fighting stance. "Prove it."

"I will."

Juhani has barely stepped onto the mat when Tristis throws the first punch. She curses herself for having forgotten that the Jedi Academy's rules of engagement won't apply here, for being too slow to mount any sort of defense. He strikes her square on the mouth. She staggers but keeps her balance, tasting blood where her sharp teeth scraped her tongue, crouching low for stability as she and Tristis begin to circle one another. He tests her defenses with feints and a flurry of strikes. She easily evades each blow. Something inside her is howling for revenge, begging to make him bleed the way he did to her, but she smothers it with all the calm she can muster and waits for the opening she knows will come. 

When it does, she is ready. Tristis favors his left side when he attacks, leaving his right flank exposed. She sees the opening, slips past his guard, and targets his kidneys with a powerful kick. But he doesn't topple the way she'd hoped he would. He clumsily captures her leg as she's drawing it back for another strike and heaves, taking them both down to the mat. As they wrestle for dominance, he bellows in shock when her sharp claws score his face. Normally she'd be careful with her natural weapons against an opponent who isn't similarly armed, but at the moment she's too fueled by rage to care.

Tristis is larger and heavier than Juhani, but she is just as strong as him and more experienced. Moreover, she has something to prove. She grabs his arm as he tries to choke her and wrenches it behind his back at an agonizing angle. Within moments he is rapidly tapping the ground to signal his submission. Reluctantly, she lets go and returns to Revan's side. Her victory has only stoked the fire of rage continuing to blaze in her belly.

"You _savage_ ," Tristis spits as he gets up, prodding the bloody scratches on his cheek. "Of course you would win a brawl. You Cathar are bred for brute strength and nothing more. It's why you make such superb slaves."

"Spoken like somebody who just lost," says Revan.

"See?" says the other Sith. "The slave can't even talk."

Juhani bites her tongue. She hates that she's proving the Sith right, hates that she'll never be as clever or quick-witted as Revan - but she also knows anything she tries to say right now will only come out as a scream. Instead she bares her teeth at Tristis. The inside of her mouth is still stained with her own dark blood, and she hopes her face will say what her words can't.

"You look like you're ready for more," says Tristis. "Very well, then, slave. Let's see some more of your tricks."

He crosses to a plasteel cylinder, pulls out two vibroswords, and kicks one across the floor to Juhani. She glances at Revan curiously. It would be perfectly in character for her "master" to put a stop to the escalating aggression and call off the match entirely. But Revan remains motionless, refusing to intervene, watching Juhani and Tristis with expressionless Jedi serenity. So she picks up her sword, hefts it in her fist, and lunges at Tristis before she can lose her nerve.

Tristis deftly raises his own sword to parry. Metal clashes loudly against metal. He responds with a riposte that Juhani swiftly evades. She jabs back, and he barely blocks her. Judging by his drawn face and the stiffness of his movements, he wasn't expecting her to know her way around a blade. She presses the advantage, reveling in his discomfort, fueled by her disgust for him and everything his precious Sith Academy stands for. Using emotion like this is hazardous; the Jedi Masters would disapprove of this technique for its proximity to the dark side. For now, she'll do what she must and worry about disapproval, from Revan or the Council or anyone else, later. She's never been a very good Jedi.

 _Then again,_ thinks Juhani as she catches sight of the badly concealed gleam of delight in Revan's eyes, _Revan has never been a very good Jedi either._

Juhani can't afford to pay any more attention to Revan's reactions. Tristis is tiring, his movements becoming erratic and hazardous. He hadn't planned on a lengthy duel. Juhani grins even more widely as she drives him backwards across the mat. He can't match her endurance. She's going to win, and they both know it.

So, like all Sith, he cheats.

She hears Tristis's lightsaber ignite before she sees it, feels the shiver in the Force as he pulls it into his hand from across the room. He discards his vibrosword and slashes at her with the saber. Instinctively, she parries. The blade of red plasma slices her cheap practice sword off at the hilt. Tristis swings again, and Juhani dives and rolls out of the way, tossing aside the shards of her weapon. With vicious glee he keeps advancing. As Juhani dodges she can sense Revan's concern, can imagine her weighing the cost of intervening against the cost of blowing her cover. _Very well,_ thinks Juhani. _I will spare her that decision._

Juhani's own lightsaber, once hidden beneath her robes, finds her open palm. She ignites it just in time. Tristis is plainly intending to wound or kill her as he cleaves downward with all his strength. He isn't prepared for the blaze of her saber flaring to life, or the electric clash of her blade against his. As his mouth gapes open in astonishment, Juhani feels more satisfied than she has in days.

She leans into their crossed sabers, taking advantage of his weak stance to force him to his knees. The air fills with the sharp scent of ozone. With a twist of her wrist she disarms him, his lightsaber shutting off automatically as it falls uselessly from his grip. It would be so easy to kill him as he kneels, to lower that humming column of violet a centimeter farther. She can imagine how smoothly it would slice through his neck, and the relief she would feel at having removed another Sith apprentice from the galaxy. But the dark side wants Tristis's blood just as badly as Juhani does, maybe more - and, like Revan said before, she wants to be different. _Better._ So she thumbs the saber's switch and lowers the quiescent hilt to her side. "I believe this matter is settled," she says to the suddenly very quiet gymnasium.

The other Sith's face is a mask of shock and outrage. "Thief!" she shrieks, pointing at Juhani. "Heretic! A slave has no right to carry-"

The ominous crackle of Revan's own green lightsaber silences the Sith. "I think," Revan says calmly, "she and I will judge what she can and can't carry."

Tristis is picking himself up from the mat. "I'll tell Master Uthar-"

"You'll tell him what, exactly? That even after you cheated, you still couldn't defeat a so-called slave you thought was easy prey?" Tristis and the female apprentice exchange cowed glances. "Get out of here before I make you regret staying. And breathe a word of this to anyone and I'll make you regret that, too." The two Sith obey.

Revan puts her lightsaber away and turns to Juhani. "That could have gone worse," she says with a shrug.

Sparring with the Sith apprentices has burned much of Juhani's anger away, just as Revan must have known it would. But there's enough of it left for Juhani to growl, "It should never have happened at all."

The slight smirk on Revan's lips vanishes. "You're right, it shouldn't have," she says thoughtfully, and Juhani knows she doesn't just mean their increasingly complicated infiltration of the Sith Academy. "I'm sorry."

"I want to forgive you," says Juhani, and to her surprise she means it.

"But you can't, quite. I get it." Wearily, Revan raises her fists in defense. "Would it help if you fought me, too?"

By way of response, Juhani tackles Revan and wrestles her to the floor - but it isn't sparring she has in mind. Instead she kisses her, deeply and thoroughly, their tongues and teeth clashing, not really caring what will happen if any of the Sith happen to spot them. She slots her thigh between Revan's already spreading legs and slides against her there, pinning her to the mat, enjoying how the firm, steady pressure makes her squirm. She pulls her mouth off Revan's long enough to say, "Never call me a slave again."

"I never will," Revan gasps, her hips lifting up to meet Juhani's where they rub together. "Because you aren't."

"Then I accept your apology," says Juhani, and goes back to kissing her, snaking one hand beneath Revan's robes for good measure. The Sith Academy will never be Juhani's favorite place to visit, but she can survive it. Revan gave her the chance to take back control from those who would deny her the ability to choose her own fate. She's seen everything the Sith have to offer, and she is certain she will not follow their dark path. Revan won't, either. They'll guide each other away from it if they have to. And with Revan on her side, no matter what happens next, Juhani can finally trust that her freedom will never be in question.


End file.
